


still my captain

by urcadelimabean



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Post Season 4, mentions of recovery from physical trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:25:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urcadelimabean/pseuds/urcadelimabean
Summary: A sleepy morning where they wake up together.





	still my captain

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere after [if you lose a precious thing,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444427) but you don't have to read that first. It might give better context for their relationship, the level of trust between them and how Charles is still alive...but it's 46k and this is about 2k :p

Jack wakes in the tent on the beach. Charles still likes to sleep here, despite the fact that he doesn't have to anymore, and so Jack ends up sleeping here with him, nestled up against his chest.  
  
A warm breeze is coming in from the sea. Jack can hear the soft crash of waves on the sand over Charles' even breathing. Eventually something in his breathing shifts, and Jack knows he is awake. He pulls back to look at his lover in the dim light.  
  
Charles is looking at him though slitted eyes, letting out deep breaths between his teeth. If Jack didn't know better he'd think Charles was high on opium, the way he's looking at him, sort of dazed and blissed out. But Charles hasn't touched opium in years, and from experience Jack knows he's looking at him like that because of a mixture of deep relaxation and arousal.  
  
Slowly, Jack leans down and presses their mouths together. He feels Charles’ lips give under him just as slowly. It's nice to feel Charles' body so relaxed almost like he's still asleep, all the more so because of how bad their sleep has been lately: Charles wakes clutching his throat like he's choking, and Jack has nightmares about the same thing. Even though he wasn't there to see it, even though the hanging didn't happen in the end, Jack can still see so clearly in his mind the image of Charles hanging, his body swinging but otherwise not moving at all.

Jack supposes it is only one of many times Charles nearly died, but the thought doesn't make him feel any better. Not when he thinks of how Charles was buried, suffocating slowly under the earth. Not when he thinks how many times Charles must have been close to death when he was a slave. Pain and violence don't become easier to tolerate the more you endure them, despite what Charles says. Jack believes it’s the opposite.  
  
Charles is still looking at him, his eyes glinting a bit more sharply.

Most of the time, Charles is good at asking for what he wants. He can certainly tell Jack he wants to fuck him, but he can't seem to ask for the other way around without telling Jack to be rough with him, when they both know he doesn't like it that way, not unless he's riding Jack and can control the pace. Hearing Charles ask for some sort of punishment--Jack hates it. He hates that Charles feels the need to ask for roughness when he wants gentleness, violence when he wants softness. And it had taken Charles a long time to feel like he could even ask at all.

Jack lets out the breath he's been holding. Before Charles says anything along those lines, Jack runs his hand down across his hip, slow and soft, and around to his back, over the curve of his ass. He watches Charles closely--how his eyelids droop again and he exhales a breath. Jack's fingers press lower. Charles lets out a low sound and moves closer to Jack, so he continues, rubbing his fingers over Charles' skin, down, to the back of his muscular thigh.  
  
Jack begins as softly as he can. "Darling, tell me what you’d like.”  
  
Charles looks like he's thinking about it, but he's starting to grit his teeth so Jack tries another tactic. He drops a kiss to Charles' throat, and says quietly, "Would you like me to fetch the oil?"  
  
A short nod.  
  
Jack runs his hand along Charles' side, soothing, making sure Charles is still relaxed before he gets up. It’s new to Jack to take the lead in bed with a lover, but luckily he’s had practice at the rest of it--anticipating what Charles wants or doesn’t want and making sure he gets it before he becomes frustrated. After all, much of his role as quartermaster consisted of doing that, diffusing Charles’ temper, or at the very least steering it in a useful direction.

When he settles back on the pile of blankets and furs, Charles has turned onto his back. His eyes are closed, and he's breathing a bit more heavily, his chest rising and falling. He's fully hard now too, Jack notices. That makes two of them. Jack finds it difficult not to be aroused when he wakes with his cock pressed against Charles’ hard stomach.  
  
When Jack gently touches his thigh, Charles gives a low moan. He lets his legs fall open and Jack crouches there, leaning over him to kiss him again. As they kiss, Jack rubs his tensed shoulders and the sides of his neck, then smooths his hands down his chest, feeling the sigh this brings out.

Jack's hands travel over the tan skin, smooth but for the scars here and there. Charles’ hair is tangled from sleep, spread out on the pillows under him. Jack brushes a lock of it from his neck. After a little more kissing and touching, Charles is gritting his teeth again. Jack isn't sure if it's because he's changed his mind or he's frustrated that Jack is going too slow, but before he can decide what to do about it, Charles takes the oil from him, pours it into his hand and wraps his hand around Jack's cock.

He does it a little too aggressively and Jack makes a noise of complaint, immediately covers Charles’ hand with his own and tries to slow him down. Charles does slow down, after a moment and a concerned look from Jack.

“Chaz,” Jack says lightly, and breaks Charles’ hand off of him.

Charles is going to snarl at him if he doesn't go a little faster. So Jack begins stroking Charles’ cock slowly, his other hand drifting down to caress his thigh. Charles shudders, heaves a breath and becomes malleable again, rolling his hips slowly into Jack's hand. Keeping his fingers pressed to Charles’ skin the whole time, Jack reaches lower until he can push them inside him.

Just as Jack hoped, Charles stays relaxed. He lets out another moan and let's his head fall back, exposing his throat. Keeping his fingers inside him, Jack presses himself closer so he can kiss the skin there below his jaw.

He pulls away and Charles looks even more far gone than before, staring at Jack with longing. Jack runs one hand to the back of his thigh and holds the muscle, lifts and spreads his legs and little more. Charles is arching his back now, his abdomen flexing and relaxing under Jack's eyes as he breathes in and out. Jack looks tenderly from the curve of his neck to his rising chest to his cock, hard and wet against his stomach, and breathes a little faster.

“So beautiful, Charles, my beloved captain.” He kisses Charles’ neck again. It's been years and years since Jack took that same title, but it doesn't stop him from referring to Charles in that way, not when he suspects that Charles likes it.

Charles looks at him, his eyes half-lidded. He holds the back of Jack's neck with one calloused hand as Jack moves closer.

When Charles looks at him like that, it does things to him. Jack doesn't know quite when it started, this admiration and attachment that eventually grew beyond the bounds of friendship into this relationship neither of them seem interested to define. “Closest friend in the world” was what Jack would say when asked, but it didn’t come close to expressing their years of history together. It had been more than awful when Charles was dead, so awful Jack hadn’t even fully realized until later when he’d found out Charles was alive...but he shouldn't think about that right now. Jack tries to calm his breathing.

He guides himself inside Charles. Charles groans and closes his eyes. Jack presses a kiss to his jaw and and moans at the feeling, then begins to grind his hips between Charles’ legs. Charles lets his head fall back, breathing hard, gripping Jack harder, holding him tightly against him. Jack’s fingertips brush over his neck and catch on the necklace lying against his collarbone.

He thinks with difficulty, through the sensations flowing through him, that he ought to buy Charles some jewelry. Necklaces are out--he doubts he could find one Charles likes as much as the one he’s wearing. Charles would wear another ring if wasn't for the connotation that carried. He has nothing against the institution of marriage exactly, it’s more than he doesn't give a single fuck about it. It means nothing to him, as do most things which involve laws supposedly having the power to govern the lives of men. Jack decides on an earring--something pretty yet masculine that Charles would like to wear. He kisses Charles’ jaw below his ear and Charles turns his head to the side and growls with satisfaction.

Charles has never seemed to mind being told he's beautiful, so Jack murmurs to him about that, aware that his voice is becoming more and more breathless with each roll of his hips. Charles pulls on the back of his neck and kisses him insistently--Jack hopes it’s not to shut him up. He doesn’t think it is. A hand on Charles’ thigh, fingers digging slowly into the muscle, brings out a groan, swallowed up between their mouths.

Charles holds the side of Jack's face as he pulls away. He's breathing even harder now, groaning, and Jack pulls away just far enough to slip a hand between their bellies and stroke his cock, but Charles pulls him back tight against him, making this almost pointless.

Charles says his name, and the rasp of his voice makes a shudder run through Jack. He presses his mouth to Charles’ neck and sucks on his skin and feels how Charles arches his head back because of it, thrusting his hips up, letting out a breath as he lets Jack push him back down.

Charles pants and comes between their chests, Jack a few moments later. Jack relaxes against him, catching his breath. Charles, still looking like he’s taken a good hit of opium, strokes Jack's sideburn down to his open mouth and kisses him again.

Jack pulls away to fetch a cloth, but Charles growls low in his throat and holds him there above him, then brings him snugly back into his arms. He rolls over on top of Jack and kisses him some more, tilting his head to the side, smothering Jack with his hair. Even when Charles kisses gently it’s overwhelming, with very few opportunities to breathe. Jack holds the back of his head with one hand and runs the other over Charles’ shoulders and hair, appreciating the way Charles’ muscles shift under his fingers, and the way he hums into the kiss as Jack massages the back of his head. Charles nuzzles him, turns his head to the other side and continues kissing the last bit of sense out of him. By the end, Jack feels like his tongue will fall off, in a wonderful sort of way. Every part of him is blissfully tired.

Charles brushes Jack's lower lip with his thumb, then collapses against him with a sigh. “Don’t have to get up till noon at the latest,” he mutters against Jack’s ear, clearly planning on going back to sleep.

Jack murmurs with a smile, “No, I don’t suppose we do.” He kisses Charles’ hair. “But then we have to meet with Max in the afternoon--”

Charles drops one hand onto Jack’s mouth and narrows his eyes. “Mmmm. That’s in about six hours.”

A muffled acknowledgment from Jack, before Charles takes his hand off of him. “Darling, I'm not going anywhere," Jack points out. "You don't have to lie on top of me to keep me down.”

Charles hums an amused laugh. He doesn't move.


End file.
